


The Sky in his Eyes.

by dusttoblood



Category: Original Work
Genre: Fluff, Love, M/M, Multiple Characters POV, Other, POV First Person, War, children at war, friends to lovers?, i don't really know how to tag this, mature for later chapters, smut in later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 07:48:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15836922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dusttoblood/pseuds/dusttoblood
Summary: It didn’t take me long to realize what he was… a “Sword Kid”. Another one of those child soldiers that swarm the rebel army like rats. They were fearless, knew how and what to do with weapons, often with skill that put my own trainees to shame. Their precision on knifes was a nightmare and most of all, they were the biggest headache to my army.





	The Sky in his Eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> i translated the chapter from my native language to English. this is not beta and may have a few mistakes.  
> be kind <3

From the moment he had come into the shelter, I had known he was different.  
Other children would shake in fear upon the sight of the color of my skin, the rifle on my shoulder…

But him? Hell no.  
His golden eyes pierced a hole through me while he was carried, no, dragged into the room by two of my soldiers, who desperately tried to rid him of a huge butcher knife he was holding onto like his life depended on it.  
It didn’t take me long to realize what he was… a “Sword Kid”. Another one of those child soldiers that swarm the rebel army like rats. They were fearless, knew how and what to do with weapons, often with skill that put my own trainees to shame. Their precision on knifes was a nightmare and most of all, they were the biggest headache to my army.  
We glared at each other for some time; it seemed that somehow we had started a strange staring contest.  
And maybe it was his eyes that captivated me… I wasn’t sure what more.  
I stood up from my chair and watched his shoulders tense a bit. One of my soldiers seized the moment and knocked the knife out of his hand with his boot, kicking it out of his reach.  
The child glared at him with molten fury and then at me with something that reminded me of disappointment?  
I came over to him and said “It’s all right. You don’t need it anymore. I’ll take care that no harm comes to you.”  
He rolled his eyes on me, starting to struggle again in an effort to break free.  
That made me realize that the butcher knife wasn’t his only weapon.  I observed him quietly, trying to guess where it could be hidden.  
I reached and tried to slide the knife from his sleeve before he would notice but he locked my hand with an iron grip using too much power for such a frail child's small hand. He glared me like an intimidating tiger ready to attack.  
I was surprised and, to be completely honest, a little puzzled from this small child's strength. But not for long, then I shook off his hand and pulled the knife from his sleeve, kicking it aside like the other.  
He now started struggling violently, twisting in their grip while hissing and cursing (or that what I thought it was) in their language.  
He kept twisting and cursing, my soldiers were able to keep him in his place but it has seemed that for one of them it was enough. He raised his hand, set and ready to hit the boy. I grabbed the boy in his filthy shirt and caught the hand midair. The boy stopped for a moment and looked around, when he saw it was me that hold him he began struggling again with a growl.  
I looked at him and hissed “calm down.”  
He shuddered and looked at me.  
“We don’t use violence against them Sergeant.” I also added to my soldier.  
“Tell that to him.” He mumbled and shook my hand away.  
“He doesn’t understand us Peter.” I answered in a low voice from the effort of preventing the boy (who still struggled) to escape from my grasp.  
His plan didn’t succeed and it seemed that his power whined. So he collapsed into a sitting on the floor, his arm still trapped in my hand and for the first time since he was first dragged into this very room…  
he looked lost.  
No plan of escape, in a place that his physical power meant nothing.

I kneeled next to him and asked in a calm voice “hi buddy, want to sit and help me check the supplies?” knowing that most likely he won’t understand me.  
“I thought he didn’t understand us.” Peter scorned and I glared at him.  
“One more word Sergeant and I will personally guarantee that you will spend the next two weeks scrapping the toilets. And I warn you, lots of the kids have a bad case of vomiting.”  
A shiver went through Peter as I stood up, bringing the boy up with me.  
He twisted a little in my grip so I just grabbed his body gently, lifting him and saying “come kid, I need your help.” He looked darn damn confused. And it was adorable.  
I walked us to the supply room and put him down after I closed the door behind me.  
He looked around himself, seemed to be surprised it’s not a prison cell. I crouched down to his level and smiled at him; he smiled and hurryingly crawled to the corner of the room behind the shelves, looking at me like a scared kitten.  
That started bad… I didn’t want him to think of me as the enemy… maybe… maybe playing will help me? He may have been a sword child but he is still a child.  
I straighten up and walked to the other corner of the room, grabbing the end of a huge sack of bandages and dragged it near him, I took the supply registry and from the metal table and the metal chair, setting it in a safe distance and taking a sit. I pulled one of the bandages out of the sack and threw it to him, he caught it and looks at me, question in his eye.  
I got out another one and threw it to him, signing two with my fingers and three when I rolled him another one.  
He kept looking at me when I rolled two more and signed 5 with my fingers, grabbing the sack and pointing it at his direction.  
He took one on the bandages in the sack, looking at the white cotton one minute, feeling its texture and then in the next he pulled up his pants, reviling the nastiest looking open scratch.  
I was horrified, how didn’t I notice that?  
Then, he took the bandage and started treating himself. I caught his hand before the bandage touched skin and quickly got out of my chair, taking a bottle of sterilizer and giving it to him.  
He slouched but look like he knew what to do with it (even if he looked very displeased doing so). He took a deep breath and braced himself before putting in on the open wound.  
There were soldiers that went screaming and crying for less than that, but he just hissed and bit his lip.  
It was horrifying and so impressive that it took time for me to notice that his hands are shaking. I placed my hand on his and stopped him, taking the rest of the bandage and finishing warping it myself.  
“Do you have others?” I asked quietly.  
He stared at me for a while, judging if he should trust me or not and then turned his back to me, stripping his filthy t-shirt.  
Only to reveal another open, inflamed wound that sliced his back in two. Under it I could see remains of scars, which were white and fading on the boys back.  
I couldn’t stop the frustrated hiss that went out of my mouth.  
I wondered if I should take him to the infirmary… but he won’t allow it… probably.  
So I made myself believe that I could treat him right.  
He peeked at me before he placed the sterilizer in my hand, which made me smile a little.  
The tears did stream down his face in the end though.  
He waited silently as I wet a piece of fabric and got all the muck and dirt out of his wound before disinfecting it. He did watch my every move, but I had a feeling he trust me, even a little or maybe enough not to run away.  
When he was all patched up he took his shirt and held it, pondering if he should put it back on or not.  
After a minute or so he decided against it and left it lying on the floor while he leaned against the wall, looking tired all of the sudden.  
“Do you want to sleep?” I asked, mimicking the gesture of sleep with my hands, and closing my eyes for a second. When I opened them I see he was eyeing me exhaustedly before returning to stare blankly forward.  
I sighed and took the sack full of bandages and closed it, placing it behind him, he moved his eyes from the sack to me before he gently leaned on it.  
He looked pretty pleased.  
I guessed he must have slept in horrible battle conditions so this must have been like the finest bed in the fanciest hotel.  
Only when he fell asleep I snuck out of the room to grab the spare mattress from my bedroom. I don’t know why but I had the strange urge to stay by him and protect him.  
I sighed, until I got a commander room with a decent bed.  
He didn’t move when I opened the door a struggled to get the mattress in, I lay it down beside him.  
Only when I put his sleeping body on the mattress it tensed immediately, his eyes shot open and he moved off the mattress and back to the corner he was in. looking angry. But not on me, on himself, that he fell asleep, that he surrendered to his own weakness.  
I sighed in desperation and sat down on the edge of the mattress next to him, beginning the real supply count I was hoping to do. He crawled and sat next to me, doing a stack of fives from the burn medicine I got out of the sack. He started nodding off at some point and I pretended not to notice when he scooted slowly towards the mattress.  
He eyed it and patted it gently in some places (a common practice for detecting bombs and land mines. I was sorry he had an experience with those as well) before lying, with half of his body on the floor, and closing his eyes. But his body didn’t give up, and I knew he took more of a “shut eye” than a real sleep.  
I was hoping it will change someday, that he will find someplace and be in peace, with the opportunity to sleep like a human.  
I finished off two sacks of supplies and arranged them on the shelves. I had to get more of them and felt horrible to lock the kid inside every time I left to get another. But every time I returned he was still on the mattress, opening one eye each time I came back.  
  
In the morning I thought it will be a good time to take him to the infirmary. The wound on his back kept bugging me, but as always my stomach woke up before my head and I thought that, like me, he won’t resist a good breakfast, hell, maybe he will be happy to see the other children too!  
I was wrong, oh so so wrong.  
In the minute he even got a glimpse of the other children who was taking care of by the nuns and other volunteers he stuck his feet to the ground, refusing to move an inch and struggling to escape from my grasp. Not only that, his mere presence was enough to send couple of the kids into panic attacks.  
They knew who he is, what he was.  
I felt confusion when he stuck to my side when he realized that he had nowhere to run. Don’t knowing how to face this act for support… that usually was the role of the nuns and the volunteers.  
He looked at me with begging eyes that turned into anger when he saw that after all we are going in.  
I lead him to the serving area and the cook, who knew very well that this situation is not ideal for any of the participants, handed me two loaded trays and ushered us out.  
He looked on the food with anger, but behind it I saw hunger, real hunger.  
When we walked out the whole hall was dead silent, only when we were out I heard the chatter and clinging of silver resume. I took him to the single, healthy patch of green grass we had in the entire camp and sat with him there, placing his tray on his lap.  
He sniffed the food (in a manner that reminded me of my Blood-Hound, Stew) before he began shuffling it in big mouthfuls. Like he was afraid that he won’t get another chance.  
“Whoa buddy, slow down, you will throw up if you continue in that pace.” I said without knowing if he will understand me, but he stopped and put his tray down and stared forward, like waiting for directions.  
I gazed upon the half-eaten apple and the mush that usually none of the kids dare to touch has been devoured and licked clean from its plate.  
every time, it was devastating to see what war did to people, to children… and to know that I was a part of it… even if it was for a good cause.  
“It’s ok... You can eat.” I sighed.  
He blinked at me and I made an approving motion with my hand, he got that, but dared to eat only when I looked away. Just then I noticed that his tray was almost empty, I looked on mine and then took my egg and put it on his plate.  
his golden eyes shot and looked at me with a confused look and only continue to eat when he saw that I did it willingly. After all of our trays were wiped clean he looked tired again, he rubbed his eyes and shake his head like a wet dog, trying to keep himself awake.  
I got up and took the trays in my hands, deciding its ok to leave him on the grass alone for couple of minutes…  
but when I returned I found that the grass was empty.  
A frustrated sound escaped my lips. How foolish can I be? Only because he stuck to me a little bit didn’t say he was less dangerous or less of a warrior. And he still did not trust me.  
I looked around me, disappointed, not sure if from myself or him.  
Then I started looking for him, opening doors, looking out of windows, inside closets.. But he was gone!  
He opened the door to the supply room and his heart almost shot out of his chest when he spotted him back on the mattress, curled into a ball and asleep.  
I let out a long breath, relieved. I was already imagining him fighting, getting hurt again, or even worse, killed. The ugly wound picked beneath his rags, it still looked horrible, but not as bad as yesterday.  
I stoop down near the mattress and petted it lightly, trying to wake him up without scaring him. It didn’t work out as he jolted into a sitting position and grabbed the metal chair near him, all up and ready to smack my head to pieces before he realized it was me and looked at me with sleepy dazed eyes.  
“You have to tell me if you’re going somewhere, you scared the crap out of me.” I said in a soft voice, to notify him I’m not angry with him.  
He put the chair back down and returned into his fetus position, looking tired. I suppose getting better took more power from him than he was willing to admit.  
He got up when he saw I was getting the disinfect cream and two rolls of bandages and striped off his shirt with a face of defeat and all I wanted was to know is what is going on in his head.  
We haven’t mange to rescue more like him... all of them was older; they knew what we are and where we came from. And when they figured that out they usually put a bullet in their heads (or provoke us enough so we would do it for them).  
But he didn’t. He gave up. He didn’t show any desire to lose his life for the goal. Is that why he was so different?  
Those were only some of the thoughts that crossed my head as I peeled the bandages from his back, only to discover that his wound was getting worse.  
“Hi kiddo, I’m going to take you to the doctor.” I said and he looked at me with a worried look.  
It suddenly all made sense, why he was so tired, I assumed he had a fever and conformed it when I put a gentle hand on his forehead, he was burning.  
He leaned against my shoulder and I took the chance and rose with him in my hands, I was surprised he didn’t object.  
He stayed in the infirmary for 3 straight days, in a side bed, hidden out of sight.  
The nurse said that this infection was with him for at least two and a half weeks “I’m surprised he is not dead.” Was her only comment after she finished disinfecting his wound on the fourth day.  
He already looked better, like someone who had a really good night sleep (maybe it was easier for him to let go with no one around watching him). I smiled at him when he looked up at me sheepishly.  
“Hi kiddo.” I said and he raised an eyebrow in question “do you have any clue what’s his name?” I asked the doctor.  
“no.” she shook her head “was asleep most of the time, and didn’t say a word when he was awake… are you sure he is not mute?” she asked as she tied the bandages on his leg.  
“Nah. Cursed very nicely when we brought him in.” I told with a faint smile.  
She nodded and said quietly “don’t you think it’s time for him to be with the nuns?”  
I remained quiet “I don’t know… but, if you want your office to be flooded with panic attack victims, be my guest.”  
“But he is so quiet... Maybe the children can do something for him?”  
“He isn’t ready yet.” I declared and she sighed and nodded again.  
“Are you coming kiddo?” I asked and was surprised to get a salute in return. In made the nurse giggle a little. I didn’t find it at all funny.  
He stood slowly with my help and we went together to the big storage near the camp, it was a big warehouse where we storage all of the donations we got of clothes and other necessities for the refugees.  
I walked with him to the shelves that were stocked with children clothing, expecting him to choose something for himself but he only looked at me, confused.  
“Pick whatever you like.” I said and he looked at the shelf, petting the clothes gently, but still not taking anything.  
“You don’t like anything at all?” I asked and his hand shot right back to his side like he was electrified. He looked at me with his golden eyes, trying to figure out what he did wrong.  
He stared at me for a while and then went over the shelves again, inspecting the fabric of the clothes.  
In the end he pulled a green tank top, a khaki pair of pants and a new pair leather high military boots. With every piece of clothing he claimed for himself he looked at me for approval, before going to the next.  
 I threw a couple pairs of underwear and socks his way and he caught them easily, I even took down a small leather bag I saw he gazed at for pretty long time.  
he eyed me questionably when I presented it to him, but when he understood that I’m giving not rationing it to him he quickly grabbed it from my hand and started shoving all his new belonging inside, fleeing the place as soon as he was done.  
I sighed, what he choose wasn’t the best choice if you wanted other people to stop be scared of you, but I couldn’t  force  to do anything right now, I needed him to understand we are not a threat and that his kind of skills are not wanted or necessary here.  
But it’s not something you learn in days, not in weeks and even not in months.  
  
He only followed me, listed only to me. Our meals were always alone on the grass and after the daily trip to the infirmary for the usual disinfection sessions for his wounds most of the time he was in the storage room, waiting for me to come back.  
“Don’t you think it’s time we send him to the Main Land?” asked me Rory in one of her visits to the storage room to see us. She watched the kid who in return glared at her from behind one of the stock closets, like an unsatisfied golden eyed cat. When he noticed she was watching him he ducted to cover.  
“I don’t know.” I said quietly.  
“We need to get him out of this military environment, Fredrik.” She said sharply “if not, he will continue to be like that. He thinks you are his commander!” she glared at me “he needs a chance at a normal life.”  
I wanted to say that I’m trying to give him the normal life I can give him here but deep down knew she was right. This isn’t normal. He doesn’t need to stay here.  
Now with the wide program on the Main Land of people adopting refugee children, there were plenty of opportunities for him to get adopted. With right letter.  
“He’s going to past the adopting age soon.” Rory informed him and unknown to her, sealed the decision that was cooking in his head.  
he sighed “it will be difficult for him, I’m not sure he will understand.” It was only an excuse, but a true one.  
“and you sure you will be more successful here?” she pushed harder “he will be a soldier again.”  
I bit my lip, I didn’t ever know this kids name and he didn’t want him to go!  
I sighed again “ I will try to explain it to him until then… could you please arrange a family and a place for him on the next boat?”  
“The ship is leaving next week, Fredrik.” She said “but I will try my best.” She put a reassuring hand on my shoulder before leaving the room. As soon as she left he picked out of his hiding place, he inspected me and I knew he listened and looked at me all this time. He knew we were talking about him. I reached out my hand and he jumped a little before he came closed and after a little hesitation he climbed on my lap, sitting on it like a block.  
“Did you understand anything from what we said?” I asked and he just shrugged his shoulders.  
I sighed. A week was such a short time.  
“ I want you to have the best life possible… for you to enjoy food and fun and for you to not feel the need to hold a weapon in your hands ever again... But most importantly... to be a kid again.” I said and he eyed me with confusion “we will be saying good bye soon.”  
He sent his hand and put it gently on my cheek. Only then I realized my eyes are watering up.  
“I’m so sorry…” I said, looking in his big, golden eyes, which was emphasized by his dark skin and black hair, were looking into my very being, into my soul.  
He looked hesitant for a moment before he wrapped his arms around my neck, giving me a very tense awkward hug before scampering again to his mattress.  
I looked after him with shock, knowing for sure that there was a big stupid smile on my face. I maybe didn’t know his name but he still showed me care and compassion. And I was more than I could ask for our time together.  
even if he didn’t know what was about to happened he knew something was coming.  
  
Soon the small bag was packed, his golden eyes looked at me funny when I squeezed a jack in there and gave him another box of biscuits (who I imagined will end up on the decks floor or in the sea.)  
“I need his name.” Rory told me, a block in her hand.  
I eyed his small frame before taking a deep breath and gesturing on myself “Fredrik.” I said and then to him and he said with a small, hoarse voice “Nao.” And that’s it.  
Nao. Sword. How fitting and how tragic.  
I gently stoked his hair and he looked a little puzzled by the gesture. “Goodbye Nao, I will miss you.” I said, deeply down hopping for a small hug.  
But he remained frozen and quiet.  
“After me, Nao.” commanded Rory and he tensed in a second, marching after her without hesitation.  
I watched as he gone aboard the ship with mixed feelings. I wondered if is it because my fear from the future that was ahead of him or from my just because of the feelings I acquired for the little guy and my need to keep him by my side.  
I wanted only the best for him... and I knew that option didn’t exist here.  
he look at me with expectation with his golden eyes. I only smiled and saluted him for the first and last time.  
he blinked once before saluting back, a fragment of a smile on his lips.  
maybe it was only my mind playing tricks on me but the thought that it’s maybe true filled me with hope that maybe, maybe he will be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos, comments and building critic on the writing alone are welcome!


End file.
